


Stalking Prey

by blakefancier



Series: Wanting Series [4]
Category: Captain America (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:33:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard is not above sneakiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stalking Prey

Steve was a hard man to pin down (and wasn’t that a nice image). God knew that Howard tried, but Steve was always training with Carter and Barnes or in “secret” meetings with Phillips. He knew that he didn’t have much time; rumor had it that Steve and his group would be off on a mission soon.

So he spent a few days in reconnaissance. He found out several very important things. One, the soldiers in camp would drink themselves comatose given half the chance. Two: Barnes didn’t drink, but he was scheduled for guard duty most nights. And three, which was really the most important piece of information, Steven tended to stay in his tent unless on duty.

It took Howard quite a bit of money, and not a few favors, to ship in all the alcohol he would need. But when he had it in hand, he did what came natural: he threw a party. It was a raucous affair. He stayed long enough to sample the fruits of his labor, and to be sure that Steve’s roommates were well and truly soused.

He wasn’t nervous. He was never nervous when it came to affairs of the heart. Or even affairs of other bits of him. That was not why his heart pounded in his chest and his hands were sweaty. He just didn’t want to get caught.

When he walked into the tent, he was relieved to see that Steve was alone.

“Mr. Stark!” Steve had been stretched out on his bunk, but now he scrambled to a sitting position, hastily closing a book and shoving it under his pillow.

Howard smiled and slowly walked over. He sat next to Steve on the bunk. “I’m not interrupting something, am I?

“No.” He blushed and fidgeted. “I was just... I...”

It was very charming and Howard couldn’t help but chuckle. “Not looking at something blue, were we?”

Steve looked horrified. “No!”

Howard couldn’t help himself; he broke out in a fit of laughter. Maybe… maybe he had a bit too much to drink earlier. He tried to apologize, but he was laughing too hard. He tried to pull himself together, but when he glanced over, Steve was pouting. Captain America was pouting. He covered his face as he laughed even harder. “Sorry, sorry!”

“You’re making fun of me.”

Steve’s tone was enough to sober him up and he took a few deep breaths to calm himself. “No. Steve, no. I’m really not. I just had a bit too much to drink earlier.”

“Right. Your party.”

“That’s right. And you weren’t there. I’m just wondering what would keep you from one of my excellent parties.” Howard nudged Steve with his shoulder.

Steve was quiet for a moment, then he reached under his pillow and brought out, not a book, a sketchpad. He handed it to Howard. “I was an art student, before all of this.”

Howard blinked; he hadn’t known that. He opened the sketchbook and slowly flipped through the pages. “You’re good!”

“You’ve seen my sketches before, Mr. Stark.” Steve was smiling, his ears red.

“I have? Oh, you mean the… outfit.” He flipped through a few more pages, then handed back the book. “These sketches… You’re very talented.”

“Thank you.” Steve placed the sketchbook back under the pillow.

“Maybe I could commission an art piece from you. I have an empty space on the wall of my study that could use a portrait of me. What do you think?” He surreptitiously wiped his palm on his pants, then placed a hand on Steve’s thigh.

Steve sat quietly for a few moments, then said, "Anyone could come in."

He licked his lips and rubbed this thumb against the fabric of Steve's trousers. "That's part of the fun."

"We'll have to be quick."

Before another word could be said, Howard was on his knees, pushing Steve's legs apart. He's wanted this for so long, since Steve first stepped out of that capsule looking like a living god. His hands shook as he fumbled with Steve's belt, but after a few tense seconds, he managed to get his trousers open.

Steve shifted slightly to give him better access and spread his legs even wider. "Hurry, come on, hurry."

He looked up and grinned. "So impatient, Captain."

"Not a captain." Steve's face was flushed and he was panting harshly.

Howard wished he could draw or paint. He wished he had a camera; Steve was… perfect. "I'll make it good for you, Steve. I promise, it'll be so good." He reached into Steve's pants and drew him out. It was very big and his breath stuttered out of him as he gazed at it.  
"Do it," Steve said, his voice harsh. "Please."

He nodded, wrapped a hand around the base, and gave the head a long, slow lick. Steve let out low, guttural moan that sounded so filthy it made Howard's dick jerk. So he did it again and again, each time eliciting the same sound, each time sending a hot curl of lust through him to his dick.

"You taste so good, Cap. Steve. So good." And Steve did; he was all bitterness and warmth in Howard's mouth. He wanted to say more, but Steve grabbed his hair and tugged, impatient. Instead, he leaned in and drew it into his mouth. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the heavy, thickness on his tongue, listening to the almost-pained cry that came from Steve's mouth.

Howard wanted more of that; he wanted all of that. He gave a slow, steady suck, then hummed. He was ready for it when Steve bucked his hips; he was ready for the painfully tugging of his hair. He was good at this. He was *great* at this. The best cocksucker in New York, Stane had said.

He hated Stane's guts, but it was true nonetheless.

He took all he could of Steve, sucking and humming and using his tongue in all the ways he knew that men liked. That he liked. What he couldn't fit in, he used his hands. Steve was wild for it, hips jerking, fingers tangling in his hair. Words spilled from Steve's mouth, dirty and broken, making him whine through his nose and squirm.

Then, suddenly, Steve thrust hard and cried out as he came.

Howard wasn't ready for it. He choked on the come flooding his mouth and for a brief moment he couldn't breathe. Not that it mattered because he was having the very best orgasm of his life.

When his brain cells managed to fire up again, Steve was stroking his hair, frowning. "Are you all right?"

Howard grinned up at him. "Brilliant. I'm brilliant."

Steve rolled his eyes, smiling. "Yes, yes, you are."

He knew he should probably stand up, leave, but Steve was just staring at him and he felt caught. For a second Howard thought they might kiss, but instead, Steve rubbed his mustache.

"You had... it was in your..." Steve blushed and looked away.

"Ah." The spell was broken. Howard got to his feet and straightened his clothes. He'd have to change his pants before going back to the party. "You should join us."

Steve tucked himself in. "No, I want to finish up a sketch before bed."

"I could stay. You could show me more of your sketches." It was obvious from Steve's face that he was surprised by the offer. To be honest, so was Howard.

"You'll miss your party, Mr. Stark."

He thought about it. "I'd rather look at your sketchbook."

Steve gave a slow, delighted smile that made Howard's toes curl. That smile was worth every penny Howard paid for the party. "All right. I have more than just the one. Let me show you."


End file.
